


along these waves i'll sail

by zaynsash



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Harry Centric, Harry's 16, Heartbreak, Love, M/M, Nurse!Louis, alternative universe, cameraman!zayn, i don't use their real family member/i've created my own, niall's 19, sailor!harry, surfer!liam, waiter!niall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 21:38:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4153932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynsash/pseuds/zaynsash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are aunts that he hasn't seen in a few years, toddlers and babies he’s being introduced to that have no idea who he is, or what he’s done. Old school friends and people around the village are all here to welcome him home, safe and sound. There’s even press – local photographers and journalists who want to be the first to hear about his story, about the 16 year old boy who’s just spent a year and a half on his own sailing 27,000 miles around the globe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	along these waves i'll sail

**Author's Note:**

> yikes, i'm doing a story then i guess. i've been wanting to do this for agesssssss and i've finished school completely now so i finally have time to focus. i hope this is different from everything else that you've read and that you enjoy it?? idk.
> 
> leave me feedback on my tumblr, zaynsash. and also suggestions as to what you want/think to happen in this story. apologises now for any mistakes i've made, i've loosely based the information about harry on laura dekker, who actually holds the title that harry does in this story. ok. anyway. enjoy!!

It’s ridiculous, really, how even in a room full of people, Harry feels alone. These people are here, for _him_ – members of his family that have travelled hours to see him, friends from his childhood to congratulate him. He should be pleased, _over the moon_ and ecstatic with happiness, but he just _can’t_. He’s got so used to his own company, from being isolated from the world that he doesn’t know how to handle this all. He wants to go back home, wants to take a nice, warm shower and go to bed. But his mother has thrown this bloody ridiculous return party, separate from the one he had with the press and his family when he finished his trip in St Maarten and the mere thought of human interaction makes his toes curl in his shoes.

There are aunts that he hasn’t seen in a few years, toddlers and babies he’s being introduced to that have no idea who he is, or what he’s done. Old school friends and people around the village are all here to welcome him home, safe and sound. There’s even press – local photographers and journalists who want to be the first to hear about his story, about the 16 year old boy who’s just spent a year and a half on his own sailing 27,000 miles around the globe. And it’s not that Harry isn’t grateful, because he truly is – it’s just that he needs some time to settle and to get used to it all again.

He’s being polite through it all though, answering questions and accepting hugs from people whose names he can’t remember, because that’s the kind of person he is, the kind of man he was raised to be. And, well, he’s not exactly a man yet, but he’s very aware that he’s above average. _Okay_ , he’s just sailed the world – he’s obviously way above average, but he’s not going to brag anytime soon. He’s humble, like what his dad told him to be. It’s how he managed to persuade authorities that he was cut out for it in the first place. Because he was – he was ready when he was thirteen, back when the officials laughed in his face and told him and his family that they were crazy. But it never stopped him.

He’s distracted momentarily listening tiredly to some beer-bellied gentleman in posh clothes drone on about his youthful dreams on sailing when a lanky guy covered in tattoos come stumbling over, camera in hand and led by a bland looking fella in a suit. He pardons himself to the gentleman he was talking to and turns to the pair with a mustered up smile.

“Evening, Mr. Styles.” Suit guy grins, holding out his hand for Harry to shake, which he does. “Would you mind if we film you a bit, ask a few questions?” He asks, patient for Harry’s response. Harry smiles and nods, like the champ he is, and Suit guy beams before he twirls back around to the lanky dude. “Zayn, you heard him, set up!”

The lanky guy – Zayn – rolls his eyes. Harry notices, and it makes him smile. Suit guy fusses about until he’s next to Harry and he’s even got a microphone, which feels a bit surreal. Harry feels out of place, especially when Zayn nods and the guy starts talking to the camera.

“You may remember this news story from three years ago: a 13-year-old British boy, Harry Styles, wanted to sail around the world on his own. His family has a deep connection with boats – Harry was even born on a boat – but the British government intervened and attempted to block him from going. He prevailed and set out, 15 by then, for what would become year and a half trip that would take him around the globe and beyond.”

Harry can’t help but zone out whilst the guy is talking about his life, scoping across the room in the hopes of some form of distraction. He notices his Dad keeping out of focus, standing at the side of the room on his phone. He knows that his father isn’t good at conversation and doesn’t like the attention. It’s why he himself began sailing at a young age, enjoyed going round the coasts and bathing in the peace that would surround him. It was his father’s passion turned into his own – after he was born and his parents divorced, they would spend weekends just sailing and sailing around until Harry had to go back to his mother or the weather became unsafe. It was where Harry’s father poured out his heart to him, told him the stories of the scars that tattooed his skin and the bruises that smothered his heart. He spoke words that no one else had heard – because Harry soon became the most important thing in his life. And after his father lost his job and had to sell his boat, _Guppy_ , Harry soon became the only thing he felt he had to live for.

So it didn’t surprise Harry when his dad fought for him, entered and drove him to every competition in the UK for him to win. That’s where the money started coming in, the trophies and national recognition. Harry’s father got a job and started saving up, every penny stored away until finally, they could afford a 38 foot yacht well equipped for long journeys. Harry received _Guppy II_ on his eleventh birthday.

“Excuse me, Harry?” Suit guys asks and, oh, yeah – _interview_. Harry stares cluelessly at the guy, who looks like he’s trying not to show how annoyed he is. He’s not doing a very good job. “I said, did you have any doubts or fears for your trip?”

Harry clears his throat before he speaks, clear as possible to make sure Zayn picks it all up and he doesn’t have to repeat himself. “Well, there were moments where I was like, what the hell am I doing out here? But I never wanted to stop. It was a dream and I wanted to achieve it.” He speaks slowly, catching eyes with his dad who smiles at him from across the room.

“What made you want to do it?” Suit guy asks, staring intently at Harry to show fake interest, “how did this all become possible for you? I mean, 13 is a young age to make these decisions.”

“It’s not like I hadn’t done anything similar before – my dad and I used to sail long distances together and he taught me everything I could ever need. After he had his knee operation and got told he couldn’t sail again, I knew I wanted to carry it on, but not just for his sake. It became my own dream that I pursued. My dad stood by me all along – he showed the authorities that I was capable of this. As long as I kept up on my school work – which I did, before anyone asks – I was allowed to go. My dad’s been my support line the whole time.”

The guy behind the camera, Zayn, smiles at Harry then, a genuine one full of admiration. It warms Harry inside to show that there are people who actually think what he’s achieved is cool, people that actually find his story captivating. The interviewer carries on rambling to the camera and Harry nods his head at Zayn before excusing himself from the pair. He begins to make his way over to his father through the room, but he can’t get far without people noticing him and trying to start conversation. They crowd around him and he’s a bit overwhelmed, considering how calm it’s been all evening. There’s too many people, too many faces smiling down at him and surrounding him. Too many hands reaching out to touch him, patting him on the back and shaking his hand. He’s lost sight of his father now and he begins to panic, anxiety rushing over him like a storm on the rocks.

But then there’s a hand on his back, firm and steady that guides him through the herd of people with a firm voice that he barely registers until he’s at the exit of the club house, outside where the seagulls fly and the boats float steady on the water. Harry gathers his bearings back up and takes a deep breath, letting himself be sat down on a concrete step as he catches his breath.

“You alright there, mate?” His saviour finally asks him, voice slow with concern. There’s a hand on his back, rubbing up and down gently to soothe him as his heart rate returns to normal. It’s breezy outside. Harry can’t seem to tear his gaze from the floor, eyes fixed on the moss and stones beneath his feet in favour of looking up. He’s not sure whether it’s because he’s still in panic mode or he’s just embarrassed.  “I hope you don’t mind me bringing you out here, you looked like you needed it. Don’t worry; I don’t think anyone really noticed. I mean, I get claustrophobia me’ self. Horrid thing, comes outta nowhere most times. I guessed that’s what you were panicking over, right? Not to mention you nearly knocked me’ tray over when you kinda, uh, started grabbing onto’ anyone and anything and ye’ latched onto’ me.”

Harry finally glances up then to his saviour, taking in the crisp white shirt and black apron around his waist. He’s an older guy, Harry can tell that, with broad shoulders and faint stubble on his chin. He only notices because they guy’s so close to him, genuine concern in his expression as his hand remains on his back. Harry’s extremely aware of this.

There’s a tuft of blond hair that Harry notices, sweeping up above his saviour’s head in a quiff. Dark roots peak out from beneath, in desperate need of a re-dye. He’s still trying to get his heart rate back to normal when he makes the mistake of looking at the boy’s face.

The last time Harry saw anything as blue was off the coast of Darwin, Australia. It was just after his dad had been to visit him and they’d spent most evenings on the beach, catching up on the months apart from each other. Harry remembers how the sun had set slowly over the water, about how clear the water was when he’d walked along the shore, long after his father had gone to bed. How picturesque it had all seemed. But it didn’t take his breath away quite like this, with an intense stare and a heat even the Australian sun can’t compete with. Harry feels a weird sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh, bollocks, I’m ever so sorry for that, but, uh – yeah, kind of lost it back there. Thank you, though. For, y’know – helping me.” He blurts, feeling the heat rushing to his cheeks under the happy gaze of the waiter.

He’s looking at Harry with a smile that could almost look fond, but it’s probably just an occurrence of Harry’s mumbling. Harry has to look away because he’s never felt so embarrassed in his life. The only main source of interaction over the past 123 days had been on social media. He hasn’t had any of his own age, either. The past two years has lost him some vital interacting time. Plus, this is new – finding someone so attractive that he can’t form a sentence.

Apparently it’s endearing, though, because the older lad just laughs and places a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder. “No problem, man! I know exactly what that feels like. Just get some air and you’ll be alright, yeah? Can only imagine what this Harry guy feels like, being the centre of attention a – “

 _“Horan!”_ Booms a voice from where the back door has just opened, and there’s an angry looking ginger man glaring at Harry’s saviour. “Stop stealing the show and get back to work! I’m not paying you to sit on yer arse!”

He looks confused as he scrambles to his feet before reaching out to assist Harry, too. There’s a guilt building in his stomach so before the saviour waiter can leave, he holds his hands out and introduces himself.

“M’names Harry. Harry Styles. I’m the – y’know. Sailor kid. Hi.”

 _“Jesus Christ,”_ the waiter breaths, taking Harry’s hand in his own and shaking it vigorously, “I didn’t mean to – shit, god, you’re fucking fantastic. I mean – _holy fuck!_ I can’t believe this. I dragged you out of your own celebration party; no wonder boss is mad. You best get back. M’Niall, by the way. Pleasure to meet ‘ya.”

Niall’s cheeks have completely flushed red and he look’s torn between staying with Harry and getting back to work. Harry smiles gratefully and reluctantly let’s go of Niall’s hand.

“It’s fine, you were a major help. Thank you, Niall.”

Niall looks sheepish and ducks his head in thanks before his Boss clears his throat from the exit. He shoots Harry a quick grin before he takes off back inside and the door shuts after them, leaving Harry by himself. He sits back down on the step to gather his thoughts for a few seconds before he ignores all the missed calls from his mother to check the time. It’s getting later and he wonders if his mum is okay with an early departure. He’s thinking about Niall again by the time his dad wanders to the back of the club to find him. He settles down next to Harry in silence and Harry’s grateful. They watch the sun set over the harbour before his mum trots out in her heels and scolds them both for scarpering as usual and leaving her to deal with their uncle Edwin.

“Back inside you two,” she commands and she’s already three steps ahead as she taps away on her phone. “The local gazette want’s a photo of everyone here and a chick chat with you, Harold. Best behaviour and no more disappearing acts, okay?”

Harry and his father drag their feet behind and share a knowing smile as his mum rambles off ahead of them.

“Somethin’s on yer mind, boy. What do ya think about a quick trip in the morning?” His dad asks quietly, bumping his shoulder against Harry’s.

“No way, Dennis! He’s got an early start tomorrow, what with Debra comin’ round and the meeting at eleven!”

His dad rolls his eyes and Harry fights back a grin, nudging his father to pay attention as he speaks loud enough for his mother to hear as they make their way back around the building to the entrance.

“Dad, I’ve just spent _a year and a half_ on a boat – what do you think?”

His mother looks back with a smirk before she struts off inside and Harry’s dad gets him in a playful headlock and ruffles his hair.

“Yer’ bad, kid, lyin’ to yer mother. I’ll be by Gups at 10, sound good?” he asks and Harry’s laughter echoes out as he struggles from his father’s hold.

“Of course dad, wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He replies as he reaches for the door handle. He stops and glances back to smile at his dad once more, who’s got a proud smile etched on his face, reserved only for Harry. He nods his head and Harry grins before ducking back inside the club house.


End file.
